The Ciarcrôin
by Ash9
Summary: "Slowly, inexorably…it slouched toward the place where magic lived-aching, trembling, dreaming of satiated bliss." A horror fic in three parts Warning: violence, gore
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox, not stealing the show. All hail the creators and owners of Merlin, the BBC, who must love that we obsess this much. :D_

_Warning: dark fic, violence, whump!_

_In honor of Halloween, my first horror fic, published in three parts. Please review, my sweet readers! How else can I improve?_

* * *

The mighty god had fallen.

Its worshippers had fled and its magic had faded. There were no more sacrifices, no more slack-faced victims gibbering with intoxicating fear and slimed with gore. Instead, there was the constant gnaw of hunger and an infuriating, despicable _weakness_.

Now it must lure its own victims, spinning an exhausting web of dark magic and bloody, sensual dreams to ensnare anyone near enough, weak enough. But it needed so much more than just blood. It needed magic to truly live again.

So…it moved.

It left its womb deep in the caverns under the earth, driven mad with need, wooed by a heady cocktail of hot blood and strong magic.

And slowly, inexorably…it slouched toward the place where magic lived, aching, trembling, dreaming of satiated bliss.

Soon it would be satisfied.

Soon it would be a merciless and powerful god again.

_so…_

_soon…_

_now._


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin's door slid open with a _creeeeak_, interrupting Gaius's study.

The boy had gone to lie down early, complaining of a headache, as soon as Arthur had released him. It _had_ seemed a little strange. Gaius put a finger down to mark where he'd been reading and looked up with surprise that quickly morphed into shock. "Merlin?"

Merlin was easing out of his room, only a shaking hand thrust against the wall keeping him upright. He ground out the words, "Something's coming. We have to warn Arthur."

"Are you feverish, my boy? You're pale as bedsheets."

"Listen to me!" Merlin brought a clenched fist to his mouth even as his whole body trembled. "Something is coming…something evil. I can feel it _scraping_ in my mind. It knows I'm here. "

Gaius stood, looking concerned, but in the wrong way. That was his Merlin-is-being-unreasonably-hysterical look. "You've been having bad dreams quite often, Merlin. In fact, I'd say 'bad' is rather an understatement."

"Yes! Yes, exactly! What's been sending them is this…this **_thing!"_** Merlin froze as the castle gave an ominous shudder. "It can't be," Merlin whispered, meeting Gaius's shocked eyes. "It's here? It will destroy everything. We have to warn Arthur!"

"Come and sit down," Gaius said, crossing to Merlin and steadying him as he went down the stairs. In a moment, Merlin was settled on the bench, leaning his aching head forward to rest on the table. He may have groaned a little.

"There, there," Gaius said comfortingly. "Perhaps that was just the castle settling in for the cooler weather." Merlin lifted his head to give Gaius a panicked glare. "Oh very well." Gaius sighed. "I very much hope you are mistaken, Merlin, but something tells me that is the vain hope of an old man. I'll go talk with the king. You rest and concentrate on pulling your story together before he gets here. Somehow, I don't think Arthur is going to be impressed with a warning like, _'Something evil is coming,'"_ Gaius said with a raised eyebrow.

"I know," Merlin said, trying to ignore the way his stomach was churning and the horrifying sensation that something had befouled his mind. Gaius was right. He was going to have to convince Arthur that this was a real threat—that the entire castle needed to be evacuated. No mean feat given the fact that Merlin had nothing tangible to show the king.

All was quiet for a short stretch of time after Gaius left. Then the castle gave another shudder right under Merlin's feet and he suddenly understood that he'd made a major miscalculation. _He_ should be the one evacuating. Merlin stood shakily. "Arthur can't come here. This is where it's—"

The floor heaved high enough to shove Merlin off his feet. He cried out, his hands snatching at the table, which was no longer where it should have been, but was in the air, pitching over on top of him. Before it could connect, something slammed into Merlin from the side—_hard_—stealing his breath and sending spears of pain through his chest, his arms, his legs. Then the wall went diagonal; the roof fell in and Merlin was jerked down into darkness and pressure and a tumbling rush of thuds and pain and screaming and then—nothing.

Nothing but an excruciating _scraping_ in his mind.

* * *

Merlin woke with a start, jerking up, breathing hard, his heart pounding and a scream clogging his throat. His fists grasped at the blanket spread over him. _Blanket_?

He was in bed. In his room. Which looked normal. Not…whatever he'd been expecting. Had it been a dream? That was the only explanation—he'd had another bloody, horrible dream about something evil calling him and luring him to his death.

Merlin lay back with a sigh, feeling his frantic heartbeat return to normal. Already, the horror of it was fading from his mind. What remained was a vague dread that seemed ridiculous in the light of day. He was no longer a child and had faced down many fearsome things since coming to Camelot. And beaten them, too.

Merlin threw off the bedclothes and enjoyed a good stretch before rolling off his bed. Scratching idly at his back, rumpling the soft fabric of his nightshirt, he padded over to the window. It was a beautiful, sunny day—not a cloud in the sky. He beamed, feeling once again that inordinate connection that he had to the sun and to light, something that even his mother had been unable to explain. Sunny days seemed recharge his outlook just as much as sleep did his body, though he had no idea why. Perhaps it came with being a "creature of magic."

Cheered, Merlin got ready for the day, putting on a freshly washed blue tunic and the purple neckerchief that Gwen had given him on his last birthday. She had said that purple was his color. Merlin hummed as he headed out to greet Gaius. He grabbed a few bites of breakfast, forcing himself despite the energy that thrummed through his veins and nearly catapulted him out the door.

"I'm just not hungry, Gaius," he insisted as the man nagged him. "I can barely even think I feel so full."

"Full? Full of what, I simply have to ask?" Gaius goaded him. "Not full of good sense, that's obvious."

Merlin grinned, opening his mouth to retort before pausing at a sudden weakness in his chest. The discomfort grew to a genuine pain and Merlin pressed a hand to his sternum.

" Merlin?"

He looked up and the pain faded. "I'm fine," he said with a smile, "but I won't be if I don't get a royal breakfast for the royal pain waiting."

Gaius harrumphed at him and turned away, which Merlin translated as _Don't scare me like that._

"See you later, Gaius!" Merlin felt guilty; it seemed like he was _always_ making Gaius worry.

Minutes later, Merlin was taking Arthur's tray up the last flight of stairs when the pain overtook him again, causing a brief stop. _"Oh bother Arthur and his breakfast!"_ If Merlin could just rest for two seconds and not have to worry about that prat of a prince who—

"Good morning, sire," he said as he pushed into the room, amending his rant midstride before getting himself into trouble. Something white flew at him and he only just managed to move the tray to the side before the whole breakfast ended up on the floor. "And to _think_ I've just hauled that up three flights of stairs! You know, some people might be grateful for such a grand breakfast." By the end, Merlin had modulated his tone a bit, but a book still came flying at him next.

Merlin straightened his back in indignation. "Well, then. Maybe I'll just take your food _back_ downstairs and give it to someone who is properly thankful for it!"

He only made it a few steps before a groan and a miserable, "Merlin, stop—_please,"_ made him pause. "My head is killing me. I feel like there's an axe lodged in my skull."

"And for some reason, you feel the need to take it out on me?"

"Yes! _Ow_…_don't make me shout," _Arthur whispered. "I need food and water and medicine. Please?"

Instantly concerned at the Prince's tone, Merlin hurried to the table, setting the tray down before he remembered to be quiet. _"Oh,_ _sorry,"_ he whispered.

Arthur groaned. Merlin brought the water pitcher and a goblet over to the bed. The prince sat up in bed, grimacing. "So what brought this on, sire? Too much wine late at night?" Merlin poured, careful to watch lest he spill any on the royal sheets.

"I did not have too much wine. _MERLIN! WAKE UP!"_

Merlin jolted back from the bed, staring at Arthur. "There's no need to yell."

"YOU'RE GOING TO _DIE,_ MERLIN! _WAKE _**UP!"**

Merlin froze, trembling. Arthur's mouth wasn't matching his words. His face was relaxed, his hand outstretched for the goblet, eyes just beginning to register worry. But the words Merlin had heard: those words had been screamed from a distance, not spoken from two feet away. What was happening?

A flash of darkness cut into his vision: bodies, falling and twisting through streams of light, screaming, rocks tumbling over them as they fell.

Then he was back in Arthur's chambers, swaying in the bright peace and quiet, watching Arthur climb to his feet, looking anxious now.

And well he should, because Merlin couldn't hear whatever words Arthur was saying. Instead, he heard gravel crunching, voices moaning and water dripping.

_"MERLIN!" _

Merlin whipped his head around, hands over his ears, searching for something in Arthur's room that would explain the sounds. Echoes were coming from everywhere and nowhere. Everywhere water was dripping… dripping…dripping…and someone was screaming…

* * *

With a rush of noise and terror and agony, Merlin woke, gasping for air in blank darkness. Pain screamed through his body. A pungent odor of moist earth and decay filled his sinuses. He struggled for breath. Something was gripping his chest—something strong and sinuous, slick, and long enough to wrap around his arms and his legs as well. He fought to free himself. But despite his strongest effort, Merlin couldn't move more than an inch in any direction.

_Arthur._

If Merlin could trust his muddled head, the king was here somewhere, had been yelling something. He needed light. Merlin twisted, trying in vain to raise one hand to focus his sluggish magic. Instantly, the bands of pain looped about him squeezed tighter and the deep, throbbing agony dug in deep. Then, he was moving. The ground was sliding by underneath and it took him a moment to realize that whatever had him was dragging him slowly, feet-first , toward some place he was sure he did not want to go.

Merlin shuddered in agony and misery, magic beginning to leak out, forming a faint blue orb of light over him.

_"MERLIN?_"

Something roared and Merlin felt an echo in his mind—a scraping, a desperate scrabbling in his thoughts. His magic excited it. The creature was old—old and evil—and it had come for him.

Merlin's blue light winked out and the world reduced to hot flashes of pain, terror and dragging, scrabblings against his mind and long, undying arches of agony.

Finally, he gave in.

* * *

Merlin was outside, in the fresh air of early morning.

Which took him by surprise. He raised a hand to his chest, pressing against the bone there, trying to ease the tightness that had been creeping up on him. He'd been able to hide it from Gaius most of the time, but now it was starting to worry him. How could perform his duties when it was so hard to breathe?

_Now,_ Merlin said to himself, trying to be business-like, _no dawdling. Gaius sent you here with specific instructions and you must follow them to the letter._

But there was a lightness in the air and a lovely smell and all that sunshine and he kept forgetting about his instructions. They seemed unimportant; actually, everything did. Once in a while, he would blink and find himself lying back on the grass, thinking about nothing in particular and staring up at the sky. It was peaceful and eased the ache in his chest, something he felt an increasing need to do.

When the sun finally reached its apex high overhead, growing hotter by the second, Merlin rolled to his feet and found himself dizzy. He giggled at the way his feet tripped over themselves, but stopped when he hit the ground, hard. The pain took his breath.

There was a roaring in his ears and a rush of darkness and pain—

* * *

"Merlin, answer me!_"_

_Arthur?_

Merlin struggled to raise his head. There was light now, spilling down from gaping holes in the cavern's ceiling. The creature had pulled him into an enormous cavern, strewn with sections of fallen rock and debris. There had been a battle. Patches of light scattered across bodies in chain mail lying motionless on the ground.

Merlin gasped. There, at the bottom of the side wall was Arthur, pinned on his stomach by a rock slide which had covered part of his back and legs. He had lifted himself up on one arm and was frantically using the other to try and pull himself free.

Merlin's breathing grew harsh in his ears. When had all this happened?

Arthur gave up and turned toward him. _"MERLIN!_ I can't get to you! You have to fight it!"

Merlin grunted in pain and fought desperately to get one arm free—just one arm. Pain speared through him, again stealing his breath. His eyes rolled back as Arthur kept yelling.

"NO! LET HIM **_GO!_** MERLIN!"

Somehow, Merlin held on to consciousness. He was cold and growing colder, numbness spreading through his body. Whatever was holding his chest so tight had worked itself up under his head, pressing his neck forward as it crushed him. His sleepshirt was rucked up under his shoulders, pinned there by the constant, slow dragging. They moved at a constant crawl.

Trembling, desperate, Merlin dug his heels into the ground and twisted, forcing enough space to jerk one arm free. His mouth opened in a silent scream when the flesh of his arm caught and then tore before finally ripping loose. Merlin panted through the pain.

_"That's it, Merlin! Keep trying!_"

Merlin's free arm flailed as he grabbed in panic at the rubbery, wet thing—things—around his body. _Tentacles?_ They were slick with his blood, digging in somehow, forcing him on his side with a biting pain that stole his breath and sent black spots crowding into his vision.

Merlin lost a few minutes. When his eyes cleared again, the light in the cavern seemed brighter. He had been pulled closer to Arthur now. The prince was pale and dirty, bruised and bloody from an unseen injury. A tentacle squirmed its way over Merlin's shoulder, almost blocking Arthur from view and Merlin grasped at it with his free hand. The tentacle tightened, sliding up against his neck. "Arthur?" he tried to say, and failing, he threw a hand out in Arthur's direction.

"I can't help you." Arthur cursed with vehemence. "You have to _do_ something, Merlin! For god's sake, use your magic!" Merlin grew still and Arthur seemed to sense his panic. "Yes, I know about your magic. Don't you remember? Why do you think I'm still _alive?_ You protected me. Now _use_ your magic and save yourself. Quick—before it takes you under again."

Merlin tried to force away the panic and _focus._ But as soon as his eyes began to glow, there were skitterings of something in his mind and he jerked. Fiery darts of pain ran along the inside of his head.

The creature roared, filling the cave with its fury and crushing Merlin in its grip. Merlin's magic was leeched away along with his breath, drowned to the sounds of Arthur's voice, yelling.

* * *

He sat up in bed with a gasp, sweating, his breathing harsh in the dark room. Nighttime. His bed. _Yes._ Merlin's hand crept up to his chest and pressed at the pain there. It was sharp enough to propel him to his feet.

_"Merlin!"_ a voice was calling to him in his head, something large and powerful and …uncomfortable.

"No, Kilgarrah, not now," Merlin muttered. The dragon had been far too chatty lately and Merlin just wanted to get some sleep. Or, wait—was he thinking straight? Hadn't Kilgarrah already been set free?

Then…who was calling him?

"It's getting worse."

Merlin whirled, freezing in place when he saw the vision at his open door. It was a boy—a boy with Arthur's features. There was the same imperious tilt to his head and a slowly dying arrogance in his eyes, but this Arthur looked ten years younger than the Arthur that Merlin had first met all those years ago.

"It's going to kill you, Merlin." The blue eyes grew wide and frightened, in a way that Merlin knew was completely alien to Arthur. "You have to fight it."

Merlin moved closer, reaching out to the boy. "I'm fine, Arthur. I'm right here."

"No you're not!" Arthur yelled, stamping his foot, tears filling his eyes only briefly before being wiped away by a quick hand. "Don't you remember? The Ciarcrôin felt your magic. It slipped into the caverns beneath the castle and reached up to grab you. The castle is in shreds—and it wants your magic, Merlin!" Arthur darted forward and grasped Merlin's arm. "Are you listening to me?"

Merlin wanted to give him a big hug. He knelt and looked at him kindly. "Arthur, I'll be fine. That thing can't kill me."

"I know! But it doesn't want to _kill _you! It wants to take you back to its cave and drain you of your magic—for however long it takes. And who knows how long that will be? Do _you_ even know?"

Merlin felt himself grow pale and he shook his head. He shouldn't be having this conversation with a child, or with Arthur at all. Nothing was making any sense. The pain in his chest flared.

"Don't listen to him, Merlin." Merlin looked up to see Gaius at the doorway.

Little Arthur gasped and began to back away. The old man stepped into the room and suddenly, night switched to day. Bright sunlight poured into the window, soothing Merlin's pain. Gaius stared at the boy. "Arthur isn't himself today. Are you, my prince?" Arthur jerked away as Gaius reached out to him, then darted out the door. "Young scamp. I think his father is looking for him."

There was a strangled scream from the other room and Gaius looked pleased. "Ah. He found him. Now, Merlin, you are due for a day off."

"But what about Arthur?"

Gaius moved to block Merlin from looking through the door. "He's fine. He's with his father. Boys should always be with their fathers." Gaius's expression radiated peace, and despite himself, the worry in Merlin's chest loosened. A boy _should_ be with his smiled. "As I was saying, you need a day off. Go outside the castle walls and pick some daisies. You know the sunlight always makes you feel better."

"I know. I already tried that," Merlin muttered uneasily. "It didn't work. The pain found me anyway."

_"Hmmph._ Well, at least get dressed. I have a feeling someone will be along to see you this morning. Someone you've been dying to see." A strange smile passed over Gaius's face as he turned to leave the room.

Merlin considered disobeying, but it made no sense to hide in his room all day. He needed to go and check on Arthur, anyway.

Merlin dressed quickly and ran a hand distractedly through his hair, hissing as he brushed a sore spot on the side of his head. _Where did that come from? _He poked at it, disturbed to realize he couldn't remember how it had gotten there. And it _really_ hurt. He wandered over to the window, wondering. The sunshine, completely out of synch with his mood, brightened until he winced and turned away.

It took a few moments for his vision to return to normal. When it did, Merlin froze. There was a girl standing in his room. She had her back to him, a familiar girl with a long, black waterfall of hair. He sucked in a breath, hesitating, sure that she would disappear, or worse—would turn around and be someone else. "Freya?" he breathed. She didn't respond, keeping perfectly still.

Merlin moved then, treading lightly across the room and holding up one hand to touch her…hesitating at the last second.

Slowly, so slowly, she turned and Merlin gasped. This was the dearest face in the world to him, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. But _how?_ Merlin's mind stumbled as it tried to comprehend.

"Freya, how are you here? I don't understand."

She reached up and caressed his cheek. "Magic, Merlin. Do you really think that someone as powerful as you couldn't find a way to bring me back? It took some time, but here I am. Real, alive and here with you."

Merlin's hand trembled as he reached out to touch her hair, sliding his fingers through it as he'd never gotten a chance to do before she had died. She was clean and warm, rosy-cheeked and healthy, looking like royalty in a dark blue dress as fancy as any Gwen wore as queen.

"But this—"

"It's a gift, Merlin. Don't ask for more." Her hands slid up his arms, holding him gently. "Just…kiss me again, please. I've waited for so long." He slid his arms around her, feeling that gentle ache finally, exquisitely filled. She turned her face up to his, almost blinding him with her beauty. He'd forgotten how lovely she was—the perfect arch of her brows, the luminous, dark eyes, the straight and perfect nose and the lips…

He closed his eyes and leaned forward to claim her.

Sudden pain made him pause; her hands were squeezing his arms like bands of steel. He sucked in an acrid breath and snapped his eyes open, jerking back in horror. Freya's skin was mottled green, her beautiful eyes dripped blood and her gaping mouth nearly split her face in two. She spoke to him in his mind, her words drenched in foul desire and aching need.

_I've waited for so long, Merlin, sooooo loooooooong. _

She leaned forward, her mouth stretching open wide, her foul breath spilling over him. And he saw it in his mind: she wanted to tear him apart, devour his flesh and suck the magic from every hidden place.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold and he slammed one hand to her forehead. But instead of strength flowing into him and forcing her away, there was a horrible sucking feeling. His magic grew weaker. Merlin's head fell back and darkness rushed in to drown his fear in agony.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I'm really nervous. How was that? Did I do all right? Please review and let me know!

One more part to go... will be up later tonight! _mua ha ha ha..._


	3. Chapter 3

**_"MERLIN!_**"

Horrendous noise broke into Merlin's consciousness from all directions—people yelling, fighting, the creature roaring.

He could take in very little at first. A cold numbness had invaded his body and slowed his senses. Finally, he managed to force his eyes open. They were still beneath the earth, in a cavern with some sort of glowing green moss on its walls. In the strange light, Merlin could see Arthur on his feet now, freed from the rockslide. He and the other knights were following the creature and hacking at the swaying tentacles guarding its prize: Merlin.

The thing looked nothing like Freya now. How easily it had penetrated his mind and used his memories against him! Merlin shook with fury. He lifted his right hand, trying to force his eyes to focus on the large, blurry creature dragging him. As his hand moved into his line of sight, Merlin was shocked to see that his fingers were bloodied, his nails torn. Thick blood had congealed in rivulets down his forearm, leading from puncture wounds torn wide in his frenzy to escape. Yet the pain was dull.

"Merlin, _fight!_ Use your magic. **_NOW!"_**

Arthur hadn't paused his slicing at tentacles, even as one flicked two knights and sent them spinning into the wall with a sickening crunch of chain mail. Merlin opened his mouth to say that he was trying, but again, the pressure tightened on his chest and he only made a gasping, breathless sound. He forced himself to focus. His magic had to strike quick, like a snake, or the creature would simply absorb it again.

_But first things first_.

With a jerk of his free hand and a golden glow of his eyes, Merlin sent Arthur floating back to what his magical senses told him was a solid outcropping of rock high in the air. Arthur yelled at him the entire way.

_Yes, you prat, I __**know**__ that's not what you wanted_—

His magic sent the thing into a frenzy. Before Merlin's eyes could flash gold again, it heaved him up and smashed him back down on the ground. There was a horrible _crrrrack_ and Merlin arched in agony, drowning in the dark and the screaming…

* * *

Merlin jolted, giving a gasp that had everyone staring at him.

They were in the Castle of Fyrien, in the throne room. Arthur, Gwen, Morgana and Merlin were on their knees, awaiting Cenred's mercy. Not that Morgana was really in any danger.

Merlin fought to calm himself. He was hurting badly from when they had been taken in the caves; the pain was becoming a real distraction. Although…for some reason, he couldn't remember how he'd gotten hurt. And these bonds they'd wrapped around his body were so tight that he could barely breathe. Merlin glanced down to see that what held him was a long, winding silver chain.

_What? That's not right. _

He glanced around in confusion and saw that Arthur was mouthing something to him—no, yelling something at him. Merlin shook his head. _What?_

Something rubbed across his chest and Merlin looked down to see that the silver chain was gone, replaced by a long, undulating, snake-like form. It began to squeeze him mercilessly and a frisson of pain bubbled up from Merlin's chest.

Suddenly Morgause was there, laughing and unsheathing a dagger that glinted in the light. "Did you really think you could hide your magic from me, Merlin? I know exactly where it is." She walked closer and jabbed the dagger forward, sending a spike of pain deep into Merlin's right arm. "Is that where you've hidden it? Or is it here?" Another stab, this time to his shoulder and more hot blood spilled downwards. Merlin bowed, groaning at the bone-deep pain.

Cenred was laughing.

"Taking all the fun for yourself, sister?" Morgana asked. Suddenly she was behind Merlin, curling her fingers into his hair and jerking him upright. She was strong enough to hold him in place as his body trembled with weakness. "Try here, sister," she said, caressing his neck with one hand. "Cut him right….there."

Morgause leaned closer, a wild light in her nearly black eyes.

Merlin tried to follow the gleam of the blade but weakness and darkness dragged him down…down into the place where Arthur was screaming again.

* * *

The sensation of being dragged returned. Merlin's eyes shot open as water spread across his back and thighs and seeped into his hair. Something scraped at his mind, and he fought it off with a grimace.

_"MERLIN!"_ Arthur screamed hoarsely. "FIGHT! Use your MAGIC! **_PLEASE!"_** Arthur's voice choked out with a half-sob.

That sound shocked Merlin to the core.

He shook off the haze of pain and looked down to see thick, slimy tentacles wound around his body, in and out and around and around in a bewildering pattern. They were dark green, heavily toothed and slick with his blood, each barb digging into Merlin's flesh as it gripped and pulled.

**_"MERLIN!"_** Arthur roared.

Merlin lifted his head in a desperate effort, trying to see past the tentacles that jerked and spasmed all around him. Up, he looked, farther, his head falling back against something slimy and rubbery behind his neck. Then he could see it, and knew it for what it was—the Ciarcrôin, a horrible thing of legend he'd never believed in until now. The creature was half as big as the castle itself, mottled green, its head split by a blind, gaping maw and serviced by hundreds of tentacles that stretched out in all directions. Some bound Merlin, some dragged the creature and its prize toward the murky water ahead while still more were climbing the walls, stretching toward Arthur's safe perch.

"No," Merlin gasped in a long, tortured breath, filling his lungs as much as he could.

It wasn't enough. Dark specks invaded his sight; he was already fading. Gritting his teeth, Merlin raised a hand. He would do this even with his final breath. He focused his magic on the thing scraping against his mind…_there._

Merlin seized the connection between them and found the grasping mind of the Ciarcrôin. For a moment, he felt its seething and _craving_ and will to dominate.

The creature keened, its shock and surprise shivering down to Merlin. He had only a moment to brace himself, then the tentacles convulsed and the barbs ripped themselves away from his body, sending him sprawling and splashing into shallow water, mud and rock. But he stayed focused, one hand outstretched, eyes blazing gold. This thing would _not_ have his magic, _not_ destroy Arthur and Camelot in its frenzy.

With strength born of pure fury, Merlin took the horror of Ciarcrôin's mind and smashed it like a rotten plum.

The bellow of pain cut off in an instant and the body of the creature began to collapse, islands of flesh convulsing in the water, tentacles dancing madly. Slowly, they stilled and Merlin let his hand drop. He sucked in several breaths, but the pain in his chest was still too strong. With a sigh, he toppled over into the water, completely spent.

Consciousness rolled in and out like a tide—all soft darkness and peace one second, then coughing and sputtering and pain and cold and voices the next. More dragging. He was shivering too hard to open his eyes, even when he heard Arthur's voice.

_"Oh god…"_

A rough hand pushed back the sodden hair on his forehead before moving over to grasp his shoulder more gently. From the uneven breathing, Merlin could tell it was Arthur and that he was too emotional to speak. Which upset Merlin. He reached up with trembling fingers and found Arthur's hand, squeezing as hard as he could to communicate _I'm all right._

Arthur let out a miserable sound, somehow knowing exactly what Merlin was trying to say. "No, you're not all right, you idiot," he whispered, squeezing Merlin's hand back. "But we'll get you patched up. We will." Arthur should have been throwing accusations, bellowing about betrayal and damage to the castle and magic, but instead he was by Merlin's side, comforting him. Merlin turned his head away, letting the tears leak out and his mind drift off for a while.

Later, when Merlin finally opened his eyes, Arthur was still there, absently trying to pull Merlin's shredded nightshirt into place, cursing quietly. His hand returned to Merlin's head in a gentle touch.

"There you are. Good to see you awake." Arthur looked battle-weary and frustrated, but relief was evident in his voice.

"Sire?" came a voice from somewhere behind them.

"Report," Arthur said, not moving from Merlin's side.

"Twenty-one men lost. Fifteen injured." Merlin recognized Leon's voice. "The East Tower is gone, with it the stables and the wine cellar. There were many injuries in town, six dead so far."

Arthur's grip tightened on Merlin's shoulder until it hurt. "Thank you, Leon. We need to…" Arthur loosened his hold on Merlin and stood. "We need to build temporary quarters for Gaius to work in and find a way to transport all the injured men up to the surface."

"Gaius?" Merlin whispered, flopping out one arm to grasp Arthur's boot. "'s okay?"

"Take it easy, Merlin." Then Arhtur's weight shifted. "Finally. _Gwaine,_ _over here! _We needed those blankets ten minutes ago_._ Spread one out there, on the flat rock."

"Gaius?" Merlin repeated, just a hiss of breath between his teeth.

Arthur bent back down, taking Merlin's hand in his own. His worried eyes caught at Merlin's. "Gaius is fine. He's more concerned about you. We're trying to find a way to get him down here right now." Merlin closed his eyes in relief, but large tremors began to shake his body.

"Merlin? Hold on. Don't go anywhere, all right?" Merlin smiled, but lacked the energy to make a sarcastic comment. Close by, someone was jogging through the shallow water, puffing with exertion.

"Steep climb, eh, mate?" called a gruff voice from a distance. "Did it twice already meself."

"Any day now, Gwaine!" Arthur snapped.

"It's ready." Gwaine knelt by Merlin, and the warlock felt a warm hand on his back. His eyes were too heavy to open again. "How's he doing?" Arthur didn't answer. Merlin figured that there was some unspoken communication going on, but couldn't feel bothered to open his eyes again. By now, he was shaking so hard that his teeth were clattering. Gwaine cursed. "He's freezing."

"Thus, the blankets. Help me get him up—carefully," admonished Arthur in a low voice. "That collar bone is damaged; don't make it worse." Merlin felt hands take hold underneath and lift him bodily out of the muck. He cried out as his injuries jostled. "Careful!" Arthur barked. "Watch that arm! Don't…move steady, Gwaine. Out of the way!"

The world spun in a dance of darkness and light and then he was sitting. Merlin' eyes blinked open and shut slowly. He thought there might be something warm and soft under him.

"There, that's got to feel better, mate," Gwaine muttered, supporting him. "Let's get that rag of a shirt off." Merlin struggled to breathe through the pain as the cold, wet shreds of his nightshirt were pulled away, revealing the bloody mess of his chest. Arthur helped wrap another blanket around him without speaking, but Gwaine kept talking brightly, as though he hadn't realized how much blood was on his hands. "Too bad there's no girls around so you can show off a bit, mate. Girls love a wounded hero, you know."

"Good. That's better," Arthur murmured, helping to lay Merlin back carefully. "All right, there, Merlin?" He patted Merlin's arm before turning away to address his knights. "Right. We need pallets for all the fallen knights..."

Merlin lost interest then, barely awake enough to feel Gwaine tucking the blanket around him securely. "So," his friend mused quietly, "you have magic, then? Guess I know now what you and Lancelot were always whispering about." Merlin began struggling feebly with the blanket.

"No, no," Gwaine said, fumbling to stop him. "Sorry I brought it up, mate. Settle down. Merlin," he growled in frustration, "it's fine."

But the warlock had gotten one arm free and he would be damned if he would die with this on his conscience. He reached for Gwaine's hand stubbornly, drilling him with a glance. "All right, we'll hold hands," Gwaine said, taking hold.

Instantly, Merlin's magic forged a link between their minds. Merlin showed Gwaine his memories of the night Lancelot found out about his magic—Merlin's fear and frustration when it took far too long to master the spell, his elation at finally killing the beast and his relief when Lancelot kept his secret despite his discomfort at the deceit.

Gasping, Gwaine pulled away. "Whoa. Okay. Okay. I get it. I see how it happened. I'll…I understand, Merlin." He knelt beside Merlin. "My god…I really understand. How did you do it? How did you hide it for so long?"

Merlin squeezed his arm briefly and lay back on the rock, exhausted. The world was changing far too fast for him to keep up. Sleep stole over him then, blessedly dream-free. At some point, Gaius was by his side. Then he was being carried through darkness softened by torchlight, on a soft sling of some kind. They were climbing up. Whispers caught his ears, words he couldn't understand. Then bright light accosted his eyes and he heard Gaius's voice saying, "You know the sunlight always makes you feel better."

Merlin agreed. He needed to get to the sun—

_Wait…_

A sudden jolt of fear cleared Merlin's thoughts. He had no mystical link to sunshine; that idea had been implanted by the Ciarcrôin over and over again in those bloody dreams.

Was even his mind broken? As they carried his body aloft, Merlin wept silently.

For days, he drifted, unsure of his mind and body, hovering closer and closer to the great white beyond that had appeared above him. Even with his eyes open, that light was there, just behind whoever was speaking to him, casting shadows on their face and blurring their words. It was usually Gaius, but sometimes Arthur was there, or Gwaine. Merlin couldn't respond to them. In that way, it was like a dream. The gravity of the great light pulled at him constantly whether he was awake or asleep, growing stronger until Merlin felt like he was only resisting by use of his magic.

Sometimes, he would come back to himself and realize that he'd been gone, but couldn't remember where. It was like that now. Something had woken him. Distantly, he became aware that Gaius was trying to get him to drink something. Merlin didn't want it, but his body swallowed when Gaius dripped it into his mouth. The acrid taste sent a jolt through his system, followed by a heat that spread slowly from his stomach to his limbs. _Magic?_ Awareness crept back into him. Merlin cried out as he felt the pain of his wounds again.

"Merlin," Gaius was asking in a tone Merlin had never heard before, "you're fading, my boy. You have to fight. I've done all I can do."

"Come on, mate," Gwaine pleaded, "it's not that hard, is it? You killed that foul thing, and the other thing, too. All you have to do now is hold on."

"Sir Leon," Gaius was saying as Merlin faded out, "get Arthur…now."

Despite Gaius's efforts, Merlin was floating again. Down there, somewhere below, lay his body, but he could no longer feel it. Arthur stormed in and bent over Merlin, joining in the voices around him, begging him to stay. Didn't they understand that he _couldn't?_ There was nothing tying him to his body now, nothing but magic and he was growing tired…so tired.

"Merlin, open your eyes, dammit!"

Merlin, who had never failed to respond to that tone in Arthur's voice, found that he just…couldn't. He could no longer feel Gaius's hand on his forehead, or Arthur's hands clutching at his shirt. He was floating, moving higher and higher, until there was no sound but gentle wind, and no sight but the brightest of lights.

…

When the soft glow finally faded, everything was quiet. It took Merlin a few moments to realize that there was no more pain wracking his body. His breath slid in and out easily, smooth as silk. Even better, he felt clean, dry and comfortable. It was bliss.

"Merlin?"

_Oh. _

He wasn't dead. Merlin opened his eyes and blinked a few times at the ceiling. He was in the castle, but in a room far too fancy to be his own. Or Gaius's. But then, their rooms had both been destroyed, hadn't they? Merlin frowned.

"Why isn't he answering?" Arthur snapped. He was climbing to his feet, looking slightly off-balance and pale, blinking and wiping at his eyes. "Merlin!" As he stumbled toward the bed, hands stretched out in front, Merlin saw that his eyes looked vacant and odd. In fact, it looked as though he couldn't see at all. Arthur clutched at Merlin's shoulder, then moved his hands up to his face, which tickled.

"I'm here," Merlin laughed, batting away Arthur's hands. "No need to keep poking me in the eye."

Arthur's face went through so many expressions that it made Merlin dizzy to keep up. The king's hands trembled.

"Did _you_ do that, mate?" came a gruff voice from the floor.

"Did I do what?" Merlin turned his attention to the other side and found Gwaine helping Gaius up from the floor.

"That bloody, blinding light," Gwaine said shakily. "I can't see a thing. Not even your ugly mug," he said with a smile. "You sound better, though. Was that some kind of magic thing?"

"Actually, I don't know," Merlin said as he sat up, knocking heads with Arthur. _"Ow._ Sorry."

"I can't see a thing, you idiot." Arthur pressed at his forehead. "Why don't you warn someone when you're about to turn into a burning ball of light?"

"I'll try to remember that," Merlin said softly. Gwaine was helping Gaius to find his way to the bed, in a literal case of the blind leading the blind. The old healer looked exhausted. Merlin reached out and took Gaius's hand in his before pulling him into a firm embrace. "Thank you, Gaius," he whispered.

"I had very little to do with this one, my boy." Gaius patted his back gently. "But I am overjoyed that the gods sent you back. They must have known this foolish old man needed you for a while longer."

Arthur snorted. "They didn't want him bumbling his way through the afterlife, that's all. Can you imagine the damage he'd do to the souls there?" The king made his way over to Merlin's side and blindly put a hand on his shoulder. "I'd much rather have you here, where I can keep an eye on you." He ruffled a hand through Merlin's hair and smiled. "Not that I can do that at the moment. Any idea when we'll be able to see again?"

Merlin felt himself blushing as he pulled away from Gaius and helped him find a chair to sit in. "I have no idea, since I've never done that before. Sorry."

"You mean you've never come back from the dead before? Well, there's a first time for everything," Gwaine said as he made himself comfortable on the floor.

"First time?" Merlin and Gaius said almost in tandem.

"First _and_ last time, if I have anything to say about it," Gaius continued. "I don't think my heart can take another round."

Merlin hummed noncommitedly. He actually wasn't sure that it _was_ the first time, really.

"Nor the castle," Arthur said with a grim look. "How are you at magically fixing stonework, Merlin?"

"How bad is it?" Merlin whispered.

"Bad."

"Well…I won't know until I try. I'm so sorry, Arthur."

Arthur gave him a pointed look. "Did you actually do something to invite that…thing here or is this your usual guilt complex rearing its ugly head?"

Merlin leaned back against the wall. "I in no way, shape or form invited it, but…it came here for me, because it could feel my magic. So, you could say I'm to blame."

Arthur looked in his general direction. "I have a lot to learn about magic. It would have been preferable to know that my manservant is capable of becoming a target because of his…abilities. But blaming you for this attack would be a bit like blaming the ale when Gwaine gets drunk."

"Hey! I think I resent that," Gwaine said from the floor. "But he has a point, Merlin. You're not to blame if magic-eating monsters find you deliciously tasty. Some people attract girls; some people attract nasty, tentacled monsters. It's just something you're born with."

"So…Arthur, you're all right about me having magic?" Merlin said uncomfortably.

"'All right' does not exactly describe how I feel about you having magic, no. We have quite a few conversations ahead of us before I'll feel all right, Merlin. How long have you been practicing it?"

"I was born with it."

Everyone grew still. Arthur blinked a few times.

"It's the truth, sire," Gaius spoke up.

"Well, then, we have quite a few _more_ conversations ahead of us. As I said, I have a lot to learn about magic. But in this case, it proved the difference between life and death." Arthur rubbed at his eyes. "I still can't see anything but white. This had better be temporary, _Mer_lin," Arthur growled, turning away, "or I might have to test out those magic-proof cells we have in the dungeon."

Gwaine barked out a laugh. "D'you really think those could hold him?"

Arthur froze and turned back around. "That's a good question. Could they, Merlin?"

"Actually…I think I might break them."

Gwaine laughed. "God, I'm glad I picked the most powerful man in Camelot to be my best friend. "

"Most powerful man in Camelot?" Arthur repeated with an incredulous look. "Aren't you forgetting somebody?"

"You mean _you_, Princess?" Gwaine scoffed. "I'd like to see you take on Merlin now, magic against sword. Do you really think you would win?" Gaius chuckled and Merlin felt a grin stealing over his face.

"Gwaine, that's not fair," Merlin said. "Arthur needs to recover and maybe practice a bit."

Arthur stiffened. "I do not need practice. I'm fighting fit!"

"I don't know, Arthur. Even with all that sword-swinging, it still seemed like you needed my help to defeat the Ciarcrôin."

Merlin had just meant to tease, but Arthur's expression went dead serious. "I know. I think I'm beginning to see the true picture of how I survived all these years." His eyes searched for Merlin and he squinted as if he'd finally found him. "You've been protecting me, haven't you?"

"I told you I was," Merlin said with a shrug. "You just wouldn't listen."

Arthur straightened and the mood of the room grew solemn. "I'm listening now, Merlin. Believe me, I'm listening."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers! Thank you for taking a chance on such a dark fic. I hope there was enough h/c to make up for it! :D


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